Lies
by GintokisGirl95
Summary: Sometimes a lie is all it takes to protect the one you love. (AU where Jon Snow is a female)
1. Chapter 1

Lady Stark told her not to go to the feast, out of fear that the royal family would be offended that a bastard would sit near them. Lord Stark, on the other hand, told her to stay at the lower tables, and hide amongst the common folk, because he wanted his entire family with him. With the way the king was staring at her, even past the commoners, she wished that she had heeded the Lady's request. His gaze was almost suspicious, searching, and it nearly frightened her.

"You, bastard," the king called. "Come here!"

She looked around, but knew who he was talking to - he was pointing right at her and beckoning her with the same finger. She slowly rose, approaching him. She gave a courteous bow, giving him a small smile despite her feelings.

She knew...she knew that something was off about him. He slurred his speech, his breath rank of meat and pure, strong Northern ale and even a hint of wine; she could smell it even from a few feet away. She almost felt sorry for his wife.

"What is your name?" He asked, his voice loud and echoing throughout the great hall.

"Lynara, Your Grace." She replied softly.

"Lynara..." He repeated her name leisurely. "Your name...it is almost like hers."

"Hers, Your Grace?" She had an idea of who he was talking about but asked anyway. His gaze told her all he needed to know, so fond and so softened from his hard stare just moments ago.

Then it was true. The woman that he spoke of was the woman her father never talked about.

"Lyanna." The king said her name as if she was the last thing on earth. Eyes shifting to the Queen, Lynara saw the obvious disgust written all over her face, though she tried desperately to hide it. "My love, Lyanna. You look exactly like Lyanna. My beautiful Lyanna..."

The way he uttered his dead love's name almost made her think he was slightly mad. But Lynara said nothing, just watched him closely. His blue eyes weren't so stormy; they seemed to be full of admiration than anything else. He whispered his dead love's name, over and over, until he was pulled out of his trance. His stare became hard once more, and his grip even tighter. Looking over at Robb, she could see him clenching his jaw in anger, his fists into tight balls, knowing that he couldn't outright defy the king, even to defend his sister.

Slowly, he began to rise, striding towards her, grabbing her arms so she wouldn't move or back away. He said Lyanna's name again, breathing into her face so harshly.

"You're not Lyanna. Your eyes are purple. You have...you have _his_ eyes. The eyes of the man I killed." He released his grip on the baseborn's arms to turn to the Warden of the North. "Purple eyes... _he_ stole her from me; _he's_ her father. Ned..."

"Who is he?" She heard the queen ask.

"Rhaegar. She's _Rhaegar's_ , isn't she, Ned?" He seethed, his large hand smacking hard on the table, barely missing the fork that surely would have pierced his palm. Spittle flew from his mouth as he continued, "I ought to have you hanged for _treason!_ "

She needed to do something, and she needed to do it fast. Thankfully, Lynara had a quick mind.

"Your Grace, I am not Lyanna's." She stayed where she was, hoping that her lie would stop him from potentially attacking her father. "I'm the daughter of Brandon Stark and Lady Ashara Dayne; they met at the Tourney of Harrenhal after he danced with her."

"Are you lying to me, girl?!" The king roared.

"No, Your Grace," Lynara bowed her head respectfully, watching him eye her in suspicion. "They had a night together and they had not known that she was with child. They parted ways and my father died before she could tell him the truth. Lord Stark-" she motioned to her father, "-brought my mother Dawn and the bones of her brother, Ser Arthur...she gave me to my uncle in grief; she knew that she was in no state to take care of me - and she subsequently threw herself from a high tower."

"Why..." Lynara heard Lady Catelyn speak, but as she faced her, but she was only staring at her husband. "...why would you keep it a secret?"

"He kept it a secret because he didn't want to upset his you, my Lady; my father was your betrothed."

Catelyn's gaze softened, but gave him a 'we'll-talk-about-this-later' look. "Ned..."

Robert nodded in acknowledgement. "There is nothing about you that speaks of deception."

"I would never lie to you, Your Grace. I resemble Lady Lyanna because she was a member of my family, my aunt. My father was her brother...but I have my mother's - Lady Ashara's - eyes. My uncle told me."

"How long ago did Ned tell you?" He finally returned to his seat across from Lynara's still body, past Queen Cersei's face, which was twisted in disgust and disappointment, watching his body lax and recline in the decorative chair.

"Lord Stark told me about a fortnight ago." She felt a little more confidence, knowing that he was believing such a lie. "He told me that I needed to know the truth before it was too late."

"Is she speaking the truth, Ned?" Robert turned to his old friend.

"Yes." He replied, still focused on Lynara. "All of it is true."

"You're dismissed...Lynara."

She bowed, preparing her exit. Out the corner of her eye, she saw Robb's look of betrayal, Lady Catelyn's surprise, and Arya's gaze full of worry. She only hoped that her father wasn't upset with her after lying to someone so royal.

* * *

"Lyn..." The baseborn heard her nickname from the other side of the door by a smooth, deep voice. "May I come in?"

"Yes," she called, and she saw him enter.

"Why did you do that?" He asked, closing the door and locking it behind him. "Why would you protect me?"

"Because I didn't want to see you die. I would rather tell a lie than have you harmed because of me, Father." She held his hand, giving it a small squeeze.

"How do you come up with something so intricate?" Ned questioned. "I have never told you such things."

"I overhear a lot," Lynara smiled. "There's been a lot of talk about who my mother is amongst the common folk. They can be quite curious of bastards and their true parentage." She chortled. "They talked about her story, about her tragic end. I drew from that."

"This brings me to something important...there is something that I must tell you. You cannot tell anyone, Lyn...please. Not Robb nor Arya, do you understand? You saw what could happen if you do."

"Of course, Father." She gave him a nervous nod.

"What I'm about to tell you is nought a lie. Do you trust me?"

"Yes," she whispered. "I wouldn't dare accuse someone as honourable as you as untrustworthy."

He shot her a gentle smirk. "When I see you, I see her. You have her smile, her laugh, the shape of her eyes...you like some of the things she liked...you really do take after your mother."

 _My...mother...?_

Stunned, she sat in silence, mouth agape...forgetting when or how to speak.

 _Is she still alive? Does she care about me?_

"Robert was right, Lyn..." Ned nearly faltered, looking up from his hands to watch her movements. "...my sister is your mother."

"Lyanna is my mother?" With that question, he nodded. "So you..."

He almost laughed. "No, no...if the rumours are to be believed, I am not a Lannister. I am not a Targaryen, either. But you, _you_ are."

"I am a Targaryen?" Her father nodded at the question. She came to the realisation and added, "Rhaegar kidnapped and raped Lyanna-"

"No, they were wed. They were deeply in love, Lyn - they just didn't know that it would cause the deaths of thousands." _No one could possibly have known..._

"What is my real name? You said that my parents married, so what is it?"

"When Lya passed you to me, she told me it was Visenya."

"Visenya..." She echoed slowly. _After the Conqueror's sister-wife_. For some reason, she felt like it didn't fit her. Perhaps it was because she was so used to being called Lynara?

"While I do appreciate the truth...does it matter? Only a daughter would do anything to save their fathers, even lie to a king." She shot him a lazy smile, then hugged him close. "You saved me from a life of being a whore, from being mistreated by lords and everything else in between. You taught me how to wield a sword, you provided me with a roof over my head, a warm bed to sleep in; even though your lady wife was against it, you showed me pure love and let me live amongst your children. Lying is the least I could have done; I think sacrificing anything is a good way to prove how much you love someone…and you sacrificed a lot for me."

"I think so, too." He told her, returning her embrace with a voice full of pride. He didn't want her to see it, but his eyes nearly swelled with tears. "I love you, Lyn."

"I love you, too, Father."


	2. Chapter 2

The night was young, but Lynara didn't want to be back in the hall with the King. Lady Stark, the stableboys and other commoners - _and even Sansa_ \- were all unusually warm today, and Lady Stark went so far to even inviting Lynara to eat at the main table and apologising to her for her past behaviour, which shocked and humbled the young girl.

"No, thank you, my Lady," Lynara told her quietly, "I am not hungry at the moment, but thank you for your kindly gesture; it means a lot to me."

She saw the lady shoot her a small smile, though it was full of sadness, she bowed before turning to her father, standing proudly in the doorway. "If I may be excused, Uncle?"

The look in his eye wanted to disallow her request. But she knew that he understood, if just a little. "Where will you go? It would be best if you ate with us."

"I'd like to train myself with my swords," she replied, grasping at the handles waving at either side of her as she moved her legs - the swords that her uncle gave her on her fifteenth name-day. "I have not practised in a few days. Please, Uncle, may I?"

He stared at her for a few moments, almost searching for an underlying reason or a simple answer with mere looks. He finally opened his mouth to give her a proper response, placing his hand on her shoulder before saying, "of course you may, but please, do not forget to eat."

"Thank you, my Lord," she said before departing.

She wanted to be alone - she knew that he understood, if just a little - and she didn't want to be closer to the King than she already was. She just couldn't have forgotten yesterday and the way he threatened her father. It still bothered her.

* * *

She took a deep breath, then slowly closed her eyes. She maintained a steady breathing rhythm when she opened her eyes again, unsheathing her swords fiercely but gracefully. She pretended that there was a person in front of her, with their sword out and ready to attack rather than a mere training dummy.

Each lunge, riposte, beat attack, and circle parry were all just as fluid and as elegant as she could make them out to be - _be as seamless as water,_ she told herself. Every swivel of her blade met with the dummy, and she finally paused, beads of sweat rolling from her face, struggling to catch her breath.

"You'll make a great warrior one day," she heard a smooth voice say from behind her. Quickly she turned, blades at the ready, only to lower them after she noted that it was her father, leaning against the stone of the castle. "Lyanna would have made a great one, too, if only my father would have let her carry a sword, let alone a dagger."

"What are you doing out here?" She asked, still panting as she placed the swords back in their sheaths. He walked closer until they were just a few paces apart. "The feast is not over yet."

"I excused myself for a little bit. Robert understood."

Lynara said nothing in return, graciously accepting Ned's embrace. Her head rested against his chest, she desperately wanted to cry for a reason even she could not name, but found that her throat hurt too much to be able to do so. "I wanted this so much, for Gods know how many years. I've noted the few I've gotten these ever since I knew what 'bastard' meant."

Ned was silent, for only a little while. She thought that maybe he was trying to form the proper words in his mind to get her to understand, or perhaps he was too pained to speak. "I've always wanted to hold your hand, sweep you up into my arms and tell you that you were my favourite child. I was afraid that Catelyn would think I was alienating our children...thinking that they were somehow lesser, even though all of you are equal in my eyes..."

"I understand." She told him sincerely.

"Do you? It is rather easy to say you do but to _actually_ understand…well, that is a different thing entirely."

"I do." She really _did_ understand - and for some reason, she felt much older than she really was, perhaps even wiser. She knew now that she wasn't a bastard, but she still felt like one. She still felt like she didn't belong at the Stark household even though she was given the best possible life from them.

 _A dragon in a den of wolves. Dragons...wolves…_

 _Mother. Father._

"What were they like? My parents."

"I cannot speak for Rhaegar, though I have heard from many people that he was a very respectable, honourable man who took his duties seriously." Ned stopped for a moment, and Lynara saw the fond, loving look in his eyes as he spoke of his fallen sister, even in the darkness. "Lyanna was a very stubborn person. Beautiful, intelligent, loving, but she wasn't quite fond of authority. They called her the She-Wolf of the North. Arya reminds me of her, quite a bit."

"The She-Wolf," Lynara said slowly. "What was your nickname?"

"The Quiet Wolf. Brandon was the Wild Wolf, and Benjen was The Pup." He paused, staring up at the stars that they rest under. "Brandon and Lyanna would have loved you. I'm sure Brandon would have trained with you every day...showed you how to be better at the sword than I could have ever taught you…and I think Lyanna would have been proud to see the woman you've become today. Strong, independent, and loyal…you make me very proud."

She gave a slight smile, holding on tighter to the cloth that clung to his back than she really wanted to.

"Lyn…I'm sorry to have you live the life you were. To be shunned by most people simply because of what I said." She felt his smile go away without having to look at him. This was a touchy subject, she knew...but she was also grateful that they were having this conversation; the past two days saw more interaction between the two of them than the past ten years. They were having a real discussion and not fleeting small talk only said in passing.

"Nonsense," she retorted, shaking her head as she pulled away from him. "Look at these swords that rest at my hips. I'm not starving and my siblings love me. I have nothing more to ask for, and there's nothing to forgive."

A gentle smile twitched upon Ned's lips but disappeared as soon as it formed. "Lyanna probably would have liked it better if you had been claimed by Benjen, raised a trueborn Stark rather than my bastard and living in the shadows of your cousins."

 _Did it trouble you to see me like that?_ She wanted to ask but fought the urge to do so. His eyes were filled with sadness and regret - that was an answer in itself.

"Being in the background taught me how to be humble, generous, and grateful," she said softly. "I did not like the way Sansa and Lady Stark talked to me, or some of the stableboys or _Theon_ \- he may be a ward, but a bastard he is not - but that is to be expected, their behaviour, I mean. I don't...I don't think I'd be the same person I am now if I were raised a trueborn."

"Who knows? Maybe you would have been the same child I've come to love."

"Or maybe not." She muttered matter-of-factly.

"Or maybe not," he reiterated with a laugh, ushering her in the direction of the Great Hall. "But I doubt that to be true. Come with me, lass. It's time for you to go eat."


	3. Chapter 3

After he grabbed Arya and put her in her chambers for throwing a spoonful of food at Sansa while she doted over Joffrey, Robb hid in the shadowed corner of the castle after hearing voices, and not wanting to be caught or having to explain that he just wanted air, he hid in the shadows; hearing the pair of voices was enough to do so. Not too far away from him were who he recognised to be his father and sister, and they were talking; that in itself was a rare occasion - oftentimes, when they did have a conversation, it was because Lynara did something that their father did not agree with. But this time it was not a stern talk; it was loving, yet so sad at the same time…and full of memories of long-gone siblings.

He was curious as to why his father decided to head outside…Robb could have sworn that he told his lady mother and the King that he was going to talk to Uncle Benjen, but instead he went to see Lynara.

 _For what?_ He wondered to himself. They didn't interact with each other often, and he thought it was because Catelyn might accuse him of favouritism - and that would hurt her pride - a lord taking precedence over his trueborn children with a bastard? That was nothing short of blasphemy in everyone's eyes. But now he realised that their encounter was to discuss a secret.

 _What were they like? My parents._

Uncle Brandon and Lady Ashara...

 _I cannot speak for Rhaegar…Lyanna was…_

Rhaegar and Lyanna? But at the feast...they said that Brandon and Ashara were her true parents.

 _Lyanna probably would have liked it better…_

Robb felt like he walked into a conversation he shouldn't have heard. He stood there in shock, listening in to their conversation, watching the way his father talked about Aunt Lyanna. He adored her, that much was rather obvious…and he missed her, dearly.

Lynara is the daughter of the Last Dragon. That much was enough to shock him completely. She's the daughter of Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark, _not_ his Uncle Brandon and Lady Ashara Dayne. And it made him wonder…did his father only tell her of her true lineage after she lied for him at the feast the other day?

 _Come with me, lass._

Before they turned to leave, Robb quickly left the area and hurried back into in Great Hall, sitting at his vacant spot. For the rest of the feast, he only poked at his food with his fork.

* * *

"Robb!" Lynara called, pulling a new ironwood sword from a barrel with the rest of them. He didn't know if it was because he found out the truth, but he thought she looked especially beautiful, with her purple eyes piercing through her wavy, mid-back length, raven-coloured hair blowing in the slight breeze, a light flush on her cheeks… He understood why she was known as the Beauty of Winterfell...

Robb shook his head. _This will not do._ "Sorry. What did you say, Lyn?"

She furrowed her brow. "How about we train today?"

"No-I mean, yes, of course." With a smile, she tossed a sword at him, and he caught it in his hand. As she turned away to stand just a few paces from him, he couldn't help but think of her conversation with their father - _his father_ , he corrected. _She is half a wolf but also half a dragon, too._

"I know about it," Robb growled, blocking the powerful swing of her sword and parrying to keep her at bay.

"Know about what, Robb?" She questioned suspiciously as she finally came closer to him again.

"The _truth_ ," he growled, hitting her blade with his own, his upset showing with each swing, impressed that Lynara could keep up with him, even still.

"What truth?" He saw the confident look on her face switch to shock in an instant, the flush that was naturally at her cheeks vanishing to white in alarm. Her guard was down and it was a perfect time to strike. He charged forward and stuck his blade straight out, but she jumped back to dodge.

"The truth about you. Your lineage, everything…why did you not tell me? Why would you lie to me?" He grunted when she rolled, hopping up, the flat of her sword striking his arm.

"How did you…"

"I heard you," he whispered harshly, watching the wooden swords meet in a cross. "You were talking with Father and he said it. Why did you not tell me?"

"I-I couldn't have, Robb. Please understand."

" _Why did you not tell me?_ " He asked again, his strikes becoming more and more erratic.

"It wasn't my secret to tell," she said hurriedly, loudly, pleading, coming up close to him to speak in a low tone. She finally managed to knock him to the ground, pointing the dull point of the blade at him. "It was a promise. I wouldn't tell anyone and it was my promise."

"You promised _me_ something, too, Lyn," he said, taking her hand to get up, seizing the sword from her left hand and placing them both in the wooden barrel, watching her every move as she followed him. "Where you go, I go. What you know, I know. We told each other this on our fifth name-day and we've never kept secrets since - it was our vow! Don't you remember?"

"Why must you be so selfish? Of course I remember, but Robb, the armoury is hardly a place to discuss such matters." She mutters angrily. "Can we go somewhere, oh, I don't know, _private_?"

"Fine," he grumbled, taking her hand and leading her upstairs and to his chambers. Lynara sat on his perfectly made bed and closed her eyes. "Is this _private_ enough for you?"

"Why are you so angry at me, Robb? We are too close for this - we've never argued before…"

"Answer the question I posed four times already and maybe I'll be a little less upset."

" _Seven hells, Robb,_ " she huffed, exasperated. "It's not my place to give you such information. If any of this is overheard by the wrong person, especially a Lannister, then your father and I will die, do you understand that? The King would have killed us both, and his death is not something I would ever want for this family." His anger dissipated with the realisation, and she placed her hand over his and clutched it gently. "He didn't even want to tell me, I know. He only told me about my true parents because I protected him from the King's wrath - otherwise, he had no intention of telling me."

He paused for a moment, "What are you?"

"What do you mean?"

"Are you a Sand, or a Targaryen?" _Or a Blackfyre, even?_

"Targaryen; Fath- _Lord Stark_ said they secretly wed," she replied. "My true name is Visenya."

This would make her a Targaryen, and not a Stark, and definitely not the bastard that she grew up to be so terribly named. This meant that she was the true heir to the Iron Throne. He wondered if she knew about that…or even if she cared.

"Visenya…" He repeated, thinking that it didn't fit her as well as Lynara did. He was curious to know if she thought the same thing. "I'm sorry…I'm sorry for getting mad at you and taking it out on you when we practised. It was so unlike me, and I apologise." _Please, please forgive me..._

"It's okay, I promise. But…does this…does this change anything between us?" She asked quietly. "You're still my brother, and Arya my sister. And Bran, Rickon, Sansa…you all mean a lot to me and I don't want to hurt my relationship with any of you."

She was too close to tears and it unnerved him, so he hugged her tightly, planting a kiss graciously on her cheeks. He closed his eyes when he felt her return the embrace, sensing a smile cross her face.

"Nothing will change, I swear to you," he said, yet somehow saying the words bothered him. He saw her in a completely different light now, but it was all worth it when he saw her smile. "You'll always be my sister. I'm sure Arya will feel the same."

"Oh, thank you, Robb, thank you…"


	4. Chapter 4

Ned and Robert watched from above as Lynara swiftly dodged Jaime Lannister's attacks, her counterattacks causing him to stumble backwards. She landed countless beat attacks and circle parries with ripostes and remises, enough to catch him off guard. Not too far off, Ned heard Robb and Arya's cries of encouragement and he saw Ser Rodrik's small smirks of pride with every attack and slight disappointment when Jaime managed to strike her.

"You should send the girl to King's Landing. I will take great care of her," Robert said, awe thick in his voice.

"I shan't," Ned replied. "She belongs with her siblings; should something happen to me, Robb would need her the most. She is of more use here than she is in King's Landing. She'll have no one down there."

Robert nudged him, giving him a playful punch, but Ned was not feeling particularly playful today. "Come on, Ned, let her broaden her horizons! Look at her - she's already besting Jaime Lannister! With enough training, she could be the greatest warrior in all of Westeros!"

"And who's going to train her? _You?_ " Ned inquired in disbelief.

Robert shot him a sly smile. "I could. It has been a while since I used my sword."

 _Is he suggesting...no, he cannot be. He would not go that far._

"My daughter is too young to travel by herself," Ned told him, sighing. "I will not allow it."

"Ned. She is the closest thing I have to Lyanna. I forgot what Lyanna looked like until I saw Lynara. Seven hells, even the names are similar!" Robert huffed. "No harm will come to your brother's bastard, I swear you. I will treat her the way I would have treated Lyanna…if only she had lived."

Ned Stark was not a man with a penchant for violence - rather, he abhorred it, and he loathed the idea of unnecessary bloodshed, but he could hardly contain his control with his old companion. _Just what is he thinking?_

"My daughter is not a living corpse. _Lynara Snow_ lives. _Lyanna Stark_ does not. You miss her, and gods do I understand, but don't force your ideas on Lyn." Ned took a deep breath to calm himself. "She is to stay at Winterfell. I wish not to discuss this further."

"There is another matter I wish to discuss," Robert pressed his lips into a hard line. "I need a new Hand. Jon Arryn is dead and I refuse to have Jaime Lannister as my companion. Come, Ned. Be by my side like the proper friend you are and run the country while I drink and fuck my way to and early grave; I need you down south. You'll never be of any use to anyone up here."

Ned bowed courteously. "I graciously appreciate your offer, my King, but I am afraid that I must decline. My children need me, as does my wife. I have no wish to desert them."

"Seven hells, Ned. Surely you jest!" Robert was met with Ned's stoic face, and his smile disappeared. "As the King, I will have you know that I do not take rejection lightly, my Lord," he whispered harshly.

"I mean you no disrespect, my King. However, I have children and I need to be here for them; Rickon is six and much too young for me to leave here. Robb is becoming a man grown but he does not fully understand what it means to be Lord of Winterfell. He will still need further training before I could completely consider your offer," Ned said simply. As he stared down at the two shaking hands after talking for a little bit and departing, Ned saw Robert's obvious distaste from the corner of his eye.

Robert's anger dissipated. "I will not keep you away from your family. I understand how much you love them. Should you change your mind, you know how to find me."

Ned gave a nod and left to see Catelyn.

* * *

 _That was impressive, girl. Who taught you how to wield a sword?_

He would never forget the gentle smile on her face as she motioned to Ser Rodrik and replied with, _practice makes perfect. But who knows? Maybe that was just luck._

She called for her direwolf and the ever-silent, albino creature trotted next to her, both heading into the castle without another word.

 _What an intriguing girl..._

 _._

All he wanted to do was challenge Lynara - quite a few watched her practice often and said that she was the best in Winterfell, even better than her brother, but his doubtful mind got the better of him. He asked her for a round - just for his amusement - and she most certainly delivered. The swords were made of wood but the soreness in his arms was most certainly real.

All he could think about was seeing his twin sister, his lover. Anything to get over the somewhat humiliating defeat of not only losing to a girl, but a very young one, at that. She was no more than six-and-ten years, surely.

As Jaime snuck in Cersei's chambers, he inhaled the surprisingly calming yet heady scent of burning hickory and pinewood and was met with silence. He unfolded the knitted blanket left on her bed and draped it over her shoulders while she sat in front of the wood set aflame, planting a tender kiss on her cheek. Jaime was dissatisfied to see that she had not reacted, steadily staring at the flames with an intense look on her face.

"You let her beat you," Cersei muttered finally, body still motionless.

"I did not _let_ her. She is small, but she is…surprisingly strong. Rodrik Cassel taught her how to wield a sword, and he did so brilliantly." _She will prove to be a fearsome foe,_ Jaime thought and then paused, eyeing his sister. "But I have heard that the Starks are strong people. It only makes sense that they rule the North for over eight thousand years."

"The Starks are not strong. They are incompetent and below us, as they have always been," she mocked petulantly. "It astonishes me that they command such respect from all over this country."

"Because they are noble, and honourable, I presume." Jaime shrugged. He didn't want to tell her that he had slight admiration for the Starks, always placing their people before themselves.

"Nobility and honour mean little when you are against people that cheat to play the great game." Cersei stared at her lover. "They are too trusting and too honourable. Both will lead to their downfall."

"Perhaps it will, perhaps it won't. If they stay in the North then they will be safe. However, I doubt she will be safe from anyone if she goes south."

"Ned Stark would be willing to start a war for Lynara Snow, that much is known," Cersei gritted. "That is, if harm should befall the girl. What is it that makes that bastard so special?"

"He would be willing to do that for any of his children, and I'm sure his children would be willing to do that as well, should anything of a deleterious nature come to their mother or father," Jaime countered. "The Starks are a powerful family. They govern the largest kingdom in Westeros. Tens of thousands of men and women would rally for them without a second thought, and Catelyn Stark was born a Tully; she will get the support of the Riverlands. Her sister Lysa oversees the Eyrie due to her marriage to Jon Arryn. If you plan to harm her, do not do it."

Cersei laughed cruelly. "It would be foolish to attack her. She is guarded by a monstrous beast and her 'brothers' and 'sisters' each have one as well. To do such a thing is begging to be torn apart limb from limb." Cersei tightened her grip on her seat in an attempt to control her anger, her face scrunched in loathing. "With Robert's lechery, I wouldn't be surprised if he would want to make _her_ the new Queen. All because she looks like his precious Lyanna."

He noted that she spat the woman's name out like it was poison on her tongue.

"Even if he did offer something of the sort, Ned Stark would never allow such a thing; he's much too honourable to permit it. You would not need to worry," Jaime narrowed his eyes and sat next to her, placing his hand over hers; he huffed when she pulled away in annoyance. "Should _anything_ happen to Lynara, it will not be because Lord Stark willed it. The girl is not his, but he loves her like he does his trueborn daughters."

"When did you become sympathetic to the Northerners, let alone the Starks?" She questioned.

"It is not sympathy. I am just telling you what you should already know." Jaime poured himself a glass of wine, took a gulp, then placed his cup on the nightstand nearest him.

"Robert will ask Ned to be his Hand," she said quietly. "He should have asked you."

"Gods forbid. I am grateful the man didn't ask me," Jaime retorted. "That is not a position I wish for."

"You'd make a better Hand than _he_ ever could, that is unquestionable."

"Even if I was, it isn't for me," he asserted. "Only a fool would desire to be Hand."

As silence fell over the two, Cersei pushed open the window, staring out into the gloomy darkness. She grabbed her goblet and sipped from it, and Jaime saw her grimacing, though he didn't understand why.

"The North bores me."


	5. Chapter 5

With her father's permission, Lynara sat at the commoners' table like she always had, just so she could have Ghost by her side. She occasionally fed him scraps of meat whilst no one was looking, patting his head. She managed to avoid the King's penetrating gaze, instead focusing on her devoted direwolf.

.

Not long after supper, the King demanded everyone dance for him, to celebrate. To Lynara's knowledge, the night was the last that the Baratheon and Lannister parties would have their stay at Winterfell, and for that she was grateful.

She looked up from her ale-filled cup and saw Robb standing in front of her with his hand extended, his verdigris blue eyes bright with optimism and poise.

"May I have your hand to dance?" He requested with a smirk on his face. She took his hand and Robb whisked them away far from the centre and nearest a corner.

"I don't really know how to dance…" Lynara trailed off.

"Just follow my lead. I'll teach you as we go along," Robb said, intertwining their fingers together; Lynara soughed as she felt the heat of his hand calm her rattled nerves. She followed his footsteps, movements mirroring his, staring at the floor but grinning when she finally got the hang of it. His hand slipped to her waist, and she rose her head to peer at Robb, whose eyes were as piercing as they had always been, and she felt as if there was...something else in their depths, but she couldn't quite name what that _something else_ was. She escaped her thoughts, believing herself to read too much into it.

"Thank you, Robb," Lynara whispered, hugging him close. "I think the King was headed my way."

"He was," he replied. "That's why I asked you. King he may be, but I do not trust him around you…it is as if he sees you as a mere prize to be won."

"What do you expect?" She asked, keeping her voice down. "He says I look like his long gone love…and he wants to cling on to what little memory he has left of her."

"Someone who lusts after you simply because of your looks is not truly an admirer," Robb said. "There are many things more important than appearance."

"I know," she said, inhaling and exhaling deeply. "It's only skin."

"And you are more than skin."

The first song ended and Lynara wanted nothing more than to leave the hall. Dancing wasn't necessarily her strong suit and she felt…sluggish. She desired to go outside to pray before the heart tree.

"Will you excuse me? I am afraid that it is much too hot in here; I wish to go outside."

"Of course," he said and released his hold on her body reluctantly. He watched her whistle gently and saw Ghost's ears prick up. When his crimson eyes noticed his owner, he quickly rose and made a subitaneous dash to her; they then took their leave.

* * *

The number of people was dwindling in the Great Hall and the guests were quickly retiring to their rooms after an hour's passing. He reluctantly pecked the Queen's hand before her leave and embraced the king cordially, their conversation from earlier still weighing heavily on his mind. Rickon, being the rebel that he was, fought to not go to bed, much to the Lord and Lady Stark's dismay, and Ned had Robb send him to bed.

 _He should appreciate that I decided to let him stay up for this long,_ Ned thought, chuckling to himself. _Rickon is just as wild as Brandon had been._ He felt a tinge of sadness as he reflected on his short time with his elder brother.

After Robb came back, Ned stopped him.

"Robb," Ned said, placing his hand on his shoulder, "where is Lyn? I barely saw her tonight. Is she off to bed already?"

"No, she went outside. I wouldn't be surprised if you would find her in the godswood praying…she always does that after she's had her sup."

"I shall go to her, then."

"Father?" Robb called.

"…what is it?" He asked, turning around, seeing his eldest son giving him a terse look. He watched Robb look around to ensure that they were truly alone, keeping his voice low.

"I know…I know everything about Lyn." Any expression on Ned's face drained with the realisation, and he felt cold wash over his body. "I walked outside last night and I heard your conversation with her."

Ned paused, eyes widened before narrowing, his brow furrowed. "What were you doing outside?"

"There was too much commotion during the feast. I just...wanted to get away from it for a bit. My head started to ache."

"Just so we are clear…this information is to go to no one, am I understood?" Ned pointed at him, his voice stern. "If the King finds out…"

"I know, Father," his son responded hesitantly. "It was an accident for me to hear."

Ned stood up straight. "How…do you feel about it, lad?"

"I don't know…but I got mad at Lyn and I took my frustrations out on her when we practised." Robb ran his fingers through his wavy auburn hair before continuing. "I…I already apologised, but can you tell her that I am sorry again? Please."

"I will tell her," Ned said. "I promise."

"Thank you."

* * *

Ned saw Lynara before the heart tree again, with her legs crossed and hands folded on her lap. With her eyes completely white, Ned stared at her in panic for a little bit and then visibly relaxed when he saw the flash of her familiar purple eyes returning.

"What were you doing?" Ned asked. "Your eyes were white."

"Maester Luwin taught us all about warging. I wanted to try to do it properly before I was off to bed." She saw his blanked face. "I can slip into Ghost's mind; he was travelling south and, of course, I am not able to. I was in his mind when he killed a deer. My apologies for not explaining earlier."

"Interesting," Ned said. "I take it you have a strong bond with your direwolf?"

"Yes, Father. All of us do," Lynara replied. "Sansa with Lady, Arya with Nymeria, Bran with Summer, Rickon with Shaggydog, me with Ghost, and Robb with Grey Wind...I think Robb is getting a hang of warging as well. Ghost was with Grey Wind...they shared the deer together."

 _The direwolves have names now,_ he thought with a smile. He had the urge to ask her more about warging, but Robert's image flashed in his mind. His smile went away as quickly as it had formed.

"You can't keep leaving, you know," Ned started. "Robert is becoming rather disappointed."

Her face soured when she was reminded of the King. "I understand...but he bothers me. To him, I'm Lyanna Stark, not Lynara Snow. I'm not a reincarnation; I just want to be me."

Ned's solemn eyes grew darker. "I know, Lyn. But you know you must still be courteous; he is our guest. However, if any harm comes to you because of him..."

 _War will come,_ he thought, his voice sounding harsh in his mind. He couldn't bring himself to say those words, though. Instead, she placed her warmed hand over his in an effort to calm him and he just cast his eyes downward. "Just be careful around him."

"I will, Gods I will," she promised.

"Come the morn, the King and his company will take their leave," he reassured. "You will not have to deal with him for long."

"Did you take his offer?"

"To become his Hand?" He shook his head after she nodded, feeling happy of the hopeful glint in her eye. "No, I did not. Do you know why?"

"Why, Father?"

"Let's start here: Do you know what wolves do?"

Lynara nodded. "They'd do anything for their pack, even if it means their death."

"You're correct, Lyn," Ned told her, his voice firm. "I must protect you and the others…because family means more to me than taking a position for a friend."

 _If I die down there…_

"I'm glad to hear you chose not to go," Lynara smiled. "Things would not be the same if you left us to go south."

"I know they won't," Ned said in agreement. "I am here for you…all of you."

He heard twigs break off in the distance. Turning to the noise, he saw Ghost and Grey Wind with pinkish remnants of the crimson that lined their fur, tongues hanging from their mouths as they approached them. Ghost paused at Lynara, pushing his muzzle to Ned, smelling his hand and then allowing him to pet the top of his snow-coloured head. Grey Wind rested on Ned's lap, whining for him to pat his head, which he did, but only briefly. Grey Wind closed his eyes at the touch.

"Robb wanted me to tell you he was still sorry," he said, hearing her subsequent loud snort.

"Robb and his apologies...there is nothing to forgive. I don't believe there is anything that I couldn't forgive him for, honestly," she replied. "He's my brother, my favourite, at that."

"He adores you. I remember when you two were babes; Robb wouldn't stop crying unless you were near him. Now he asks about you relentlessly and it makes me think about what he said ..." He trailed off, staring at the direwolf resting on his leg.

 _Don't cry, Lyn. One day we'll be married and you'll be a proper Stark, just like me._

 _Robb's an interesting boy,_ he thought.

"What did he say, Father?" His gaze turned to her, and he found himself shaking his head again.

"Nothing, love. But I shall leave you here to yourself now. Remember not to stay up too late; we all must see them off tomorrow."

"Of course, Father. Have a good night." He watched as Lynara scratched underneath Ghost's jaw, laughing gently when he licked her arm in turn. Grey Wind moved for him to rise, laying on the other side of Lynara's lap instead.

He headed back to the castle, ready for sleep to take him.

* * *

After searching for his direwolf, he found himself being led to the godswood, past the many trees and near the pool. The cool Northern breeze blew gently against his furred cloak as he continued to stand, eyeing her interaction with both Ghost and Grey Wind. She threw sticks for them to retrieve, scratching their ears when they come back with the wood, dropping the slobbery items in her hand.

They loved her, and it showed. It made Robb wonder if Grey Wind loved her as much as he adored his owner.

"You could be out here all day if you willed it so, couldn't you?" His voice caused her to jump and she quickly became defensive but relaxed when she realised it was him. She almost hit him and it made him chortle.

"I love the peacefulness. Everything is so still, the stars roll by soundlessly, yet the sound of the crickets and frogs and cicadas is so calming," Lynara watched his every move, still staring as he sat next to her. Grey Wind didn't want to move, and Lynara kept her hand on his head, occasionally scratching behind his ears. "Aside from my room, it's one of my favourite places to be."

Robb was a follower of both the Old Gods and the New, but he had a slight aversion to the godswood. Seeing the heart tree unnerved him, even though he should be used to it by now; perhaps he spent too much time with his mother and Septa Mordane.

"Grey Wind loves you," Robb started. "He usually isn't affectionate with others."

"I know, but I'm good with dogs, wolves, and apparently, direwolves too," she laughed, throwing the stick his direwolf dropped at her feet.

He watched her again, eyeing Ghost as he stayed near her feet. He couldn't help but note that everything was different; his mother saw her differently and even was nicer, though he felt she was hurt that she is purportedly the daughter of her once-betrothed. Sansa is sweeter as well, inviting Lynara to eat lemon cakes with her and Jeyne.

He wondered if she would be the same person if Lyanna and Rhaegar still lived. She would be raised in King's Landing, not the North, and she wouldn't have been raised a bastard; instead she would be Visenya Targaryen, the true princess and heir to the Iron Throne. How would her personality change? _Drastically, I bet,_ he thought.

Robb was thankful that she was here, beside him, ever loyal to their family. But things are different now, even more so than ever before.

"What did Father tell you?" He asked, trying hard to rid his mind of the numerous thoughts that popped into it.

"He's not going down south. He declined to be the King's Hand."

"Really?" Robb's eyes widened. "That's good! I was afraid that he would take the offer; it's hard to reject someone like the King."

"I know. He made the right decision, I told him. I wonder what your lady mother said of it."

"She's happy. She didn't want him to go."

She uttered no more words and neither did he. Ghost still rested at her feet and all Grey Wind wanted to do was play, but stopped to be with Robb. He scratched the side of his belly, noticing Lynara looking at them with a grin.

As the direwolves ran off, chasing each other, silence fell between Robb and Lynara.

"Hey," Robb said, his voice soothing. He pushed locks of hair away from her face so he could meet with her gorgeous, innocent eyes, and felt delightful tingles flow seamlessly through his body with the newfound connection. "Are…are you okay? You are usually quiet but not this quiet."

"Yes. I'm just…" Her eyes flickered from the heart tree to the sticks the direwolves played with and everywhere else in between, trying to avoid his gaze. "It's hard to explain…"

Robb cocked an eyebrow. "Just try. I will listen."

"I don't…feel like I'm Lynara Snow anymore." She rubbed her arm quickly.

"Well, in some ways, you're not. You're Visenya Targaryen, the true heir to the Iron Throne…and _not_ the bastard you were raised to believe you were." Robb stared up at the sky, his hand connecting with the back of his neck. "It's crazy how things like this can change _everything,_ huh?"

 _Literally everything,_ he added in his mind.

"You don't understand; I miss Lynara. To the King, I'm Lyanna reincarnated. By birth, I am Visenya, but I just want to be Lynara." He pictured her sitting and drawing her knees to her chest like she always did when she felt overwhelmed with emotion. "I'm not a bastard, but I miss the life I was living just a few days ago. It used to be a curse for me, but…"

"Then _be_ Lynara. Be the person you want to be - I will love you regardless." He took her hands in how own and she looked up at him, a slight blush creeping on her face. "I will always support you."

"I know you will; thank you, Robb." Lynara beamed, leaning against a sentinel and closing her eyes, opening them after a few heartbeats.

"Always," he breathed. With his gaze locked on Lynara, he took a step forward, and Robb was close, so close. Her breath heated his lips and his eyes were fixated on the fullness and curve of her own as they formed an 'o' in expectation. He wondered if her heart was pounding as much as his was, thrumming loudly in his ears. He wanted this terribly, wanted to feel the warmth of her body against his, the feel of her lips pressed against his own.

Her breath hitched in what he perceived to be mutual desire, but instead of closing the small distance he steeled himself away from her, denying himself the beauty that was Lynara Snow. As he turned his back on her, he heard her release a heavy but shaky breath.

"R-Robb," her voice carried through the gentle winds. He faced her, slightly fearing that she would berate him for attempting such a thing. "Has it always been there, or…or did things just suddenly change because you found out the truth?"

It was a question worth answering, but he thought it would be strange telling her that he felt things that weren't meant for a brother and a sister - regardless of how much blood was shared between them - long before he knew what love was.

He turned around slowly, his gaze locked on her face, noticing the rise and fall of her chest as she breathed. "Suppressed," he muttered, calling for Grey Wind to follow him to bed.

* * *

 _Suppressed._

That one word was enough to keep her awake. She tossed and turned, her mind going back to how warm he was, how close his lips were… She thought of how her toes curled in anticipation and how her feet, as well as the top of her head, tingled. She remembered how her breath hitched when she realised he was going to kiss her and how hot her cheeks felt when he pulled away at the last second…

She pulled the furs that covered her body up to her face as she melted into a puddle of embarrassment.

These feelings were wrong, they were so very wrong. He wasn't her brother, but they were raised as if they were. She spent her entire life calling him brother. What would her father think? He'd probably be disappointed and have a serious talk with them both to explain just how those thoughts and feelings were improper. But he's her cousin, right? The Westerosi people and their respective cultures have had no qualms with wedding cousin to cousin; it was commonplace here, she knew.

But still…


	6. Chapter 6

_Seeing her was like breathing again after drowning for years,_ or so Robert thought. In his mind, was akin to being his slimmer self in his early twenties. It was like falling in love once more, admiring from afar. It was like being smitten with a person worth loving; a person worth fighting for; a person worth dying for.

Her eyes were a vibrant amaranthine hue, which still made him recall Rhaegar's, he admitted angrily, but the rest was all Lyanna - smile, body shape, and laugh, even - so full and robust, yet so sadly rare. He had no doubt it was because of her status, her bastardy chasing and tainting her personality. It made Robert wonder how his bastards felt and what they were even like.

 _No harm will come to your brother's bastard,_ he remembered assuring Ned.

He was usually oblivious and uncaring of things, but he saw the way Robb looked at her, and he wondered if she knows of his feelings, which were displayed rather subtly but open enough to detect. He felt a curious need to know if she felt the same, or even if she cared at all. Or, if like his namesake, she would spurn him for another...causing a destructive, sanguineous war in the name of love.

 _A war is coming, Ned. I don't know when, and I don't know who we'll be fighting, but it's coming._

"Ser Jaime..." His attention went immediately to Lynara and Jaime, zeroing in on their exchange. Jaime rose after being knocked down by one of Lynara's impressive attacks, brushing the dirt from his sleeve. "I do not do this for fun. I practice every day, by myself and with my brother, because one day I will have to protect this family - my family. I would fight to the death for them just to make sure they're safe. I don't know when...but winter is coming, my uncle promises...and when it comes I will fight."

She chatted a little longer with Jaime, but those words were the most important in his mind. She's like Ned, and she's so like Lyanna, as well. Strong, and willing to sacrifice any and everything for her family... _always wanting to do the right thing,_ and Robert couldn't help but think that she would do best on the Throne.

But he couldn't - _shouldn't_ \- think such things. He stated clearly to Ned that no harm would come to her, and he meant it. He may be the King but the Gods above know that Ned Stark would end his life if harm came to his family on his behalf. Robert had seen him with his sword and knows just how brutal he could be, if need be.

However, he didn't know how he could manage self-control completely while staring in the face of a girl who resembled the woman he so longed for.

All he wanted to do was to cling onto a person's memory, replaying the gratifying moments of his greatest enemy's death in his mind every night...though it would never bring back the love that he had lost.

He wondered often how different everything would be if only Lyanna had chosen him, her betrothed, instead of that accursed Targaryen prince.

 _She did_ not _choose him, she was raped! She was taken against her will...damn him!_

 _I hope he is rotting in_ all _the Seven's hells!_

Thinking about Rhaegar could keep him angry for hours, but there was nothing to be done. _The past is already written...and the ink has dried._

* * *

 _The moment he saw her bolting to her room was the moment he chased after her. He called for her throughout the halls, finally catching up to her and blocking the door before she could close it. As he walked in her room slowly, he saw her arm covering her head with her face down into the mattress, her dark hair splayed all over the bed._

 _"Lyn?" He asked after a bout of heavy breathing. She rose her head to look at him and he felt pained by the bleary red that replaced the whites of her eyes. "What's the matter? Why are you crying?"_

 _"I wish I was a Stark, like you." She sniffled, rubbing the tears from her eyes with the edge of her sleeve. "Being a bastard is like being cursed and it makes me feel awful. I don't even know why I'm here or why Father brought me to this place."_

 _"You are here because we love you and we cherish you. I love having you around and Arya's first word was your name, remember? She loves your bedtime stories and Father...Father loves you dearly."_

 _"But you three aren't everyone," she stated stubbornly._

 _"Well, no, but everyone else will come around. When Bran is old enough to walk, I bet he'll love you, too." He paused. "Don't worry about my lady mother or Sansa. Sansa follows my mother around so she takes after her."_

 _More tears slipped from her cheeks and Robb kissed them away, the salty taste lingering in his mouth._

 _"Don't cry, Lyn. One day..." He hesitated, kissing the top of her head while he held her close as her tears were being soaked up by his cloth, "one day we'll be married and you'll be a proper Stark, just like me."_

 _"Really?" She asked, her voice full of hope._

 _"Of course!" He reassured her, running his fingers through her unbraided hair, his voice so sure and determined. "No one will ever bother you again...and I'll make sure of it."_

That day, Theon overheard what they had said and told their father. It was devastating to remember their father discouraging such talk, but reflecting on it, he chortled because it seemed like a real possibility now.

 _Does she even remember?_ He questioned. Their eyes met while she was being led back to the castle by an excited Arya, and she quickly shied away from his gaze, instead looking in the opposite direction. 

* * *

_Oh, this is interesting,_ Jaime thought. Robb was still gawking at Lynara even with her back turned, perhaps waiting for her to turn around or something...but he saw the gaze of longing in his eyes.

 _He's in love._ And that, truly, makes the young Stark no different from him.

Robb's sight shifted from the disappearing Lynara to Jaime.

"How about a duel, Lannister?"

"I'm always up for a round," he smirked, standing still and keeping his eyes on Robb, who was circling him. "Let's see what you've got."

Robb lunged and attacked him, but he didn't seem to have much power, Jaime noticed. His ripostes and beat attacks were sound enough, however. Jaime admired how graceful he was as he attacked and blocked, as was the same with his sister. _Lynara Snow,_ the girl he and Cersei discussed not long ago. The bastard that Ned Stark would kill for, would die for.

"It's a shame you're not as good as your sister. Tell me, how does it feel knowing that you aren't better than a girl?" Jaime knew that all he was doing was taunting in an attempt to get a rise out of the boy, but he was more than curious to see what he would be like. Though, he knew, enemies guided by their emotions weren't proper enemies at all.

Something sparked in his eyes and his attack was powerful, but it still wasn't quite what Jaime was expecting. _Strong for someone his age,_ he remarked, _but not strong enough._

Many of Robb's attacks and parries were easy to block and deflect. He found it strange how two people raised in the same house and taught by the same master-at-arms could be so wildly different.

"I saw the look in your eyes. You love her, don't you?"

He saw his eyes widen and he seemed to falter a little before going back into his usual stance. "She is my sister," Robb growled as their swords met. He pushed Jaime back with a solid swing and widened the gap between them, waiting for him to approach again.

"Cousin, technically, but who's caring right now?" Jaime chuckled. "Don't worry. You may look down on me, but I will not go to your father and tell him that you lust after someone you were raised with. That's not my style."

"I do not _lust_ after her," Robb snarled.

"How many times do you tell yourself that to believe it? It won't make it that way, I promise you." He laughed some more. "Don't deny it, boy. Everyone knows that look."

 _Me, especially._

He sensed another change in the boy, especially in his lunge and subsequent strikes.

"What's the matter, don't like being called 'boy'?" He taunted again, still teasing after Robb hit him in the arm with the wooden sword. " _Insulted?_ "

Robb responded with silence, watching Jaime's footwork and reacting accordingly to his actions. Jaime knew that inside he was fuming. _You shouldn't let someone get to you like this, Stark. It only makes you vulnerable, your defences down...easier to defeat._

To be honest, he felt rather disappointed that this boy had the chance to be open about his love, while Jaime had to keep his relationship a secret to avoid shaming his family. Plus, he is a man of the Kingsguard, sworn to celibacy. It would not look good for anyone.

For the first time in his life, he was envious. Envious of a Stark, no less.

They stood with their swords crossed once more, then with a swift move, Jaime twisted and knocked him down, just as Lynara had done with him not long ago. He watched Robb slowly rise and then stare at him with eyes filled with determination, growling and sounding more like his wolf companion than a young boy.

"You shouldn't allow your emotions to rule the way you fight, Stark," Jaime fixed his creased sleeves. "Keep training, little lordling, then ask me again." 

* * *

Breaking fast was just as boring as she expected it to be, but she tried not to show it. She gave a small 'hmph' and fixed her position in her seat. At least Jaime was sitting beside her; that was enough for her to feel slightly comfortable…but just slightly.

 _Just another hour,_ she reminded herself, trying hard not to think of the miserable gloominess of this country. This was a place where it still snowed during the summertime and everything was drab and the slate-coloured: The castle, the skies, the banners, and even the eyes. She detested it, all of it. She missed the various bold colours from down south.

Cersei kept an eye on everyone of importance closely, especially the bastard girl that just walked in. She wasn't anything like a lady, instead taking to wearing breeches and leather jerkins like a male. She had the respect of a lady, the courtesy of a lady, though, and that is her deeming quality. She bowed before Cersei and the King before sitting with the commoners, and her direwolf immediately took to her side. Her verdant hue rested on the creature. It was surely a fourth, maybe even a third, the size of her.

It was true, what they said of the girl. She _did_ resemble Lyanna Stark, from what she could remember of the She-Wolf, though her eyes were not ashen. Aside from the hair colour, her skin was much like her uncle's as well, quite alabaster.

Occasionally she'd sneak her wolf a bit of food - a little meat here and there for him to chew on. The entire time, Cersei wondered if she was ever seen without the beast, the monstrous creature that never makes a sound - a _direwolf,_ the people of the North call it. _Ghost,_ she heard the girl whisper, petting the top of his head and smiling. It was a proper name for her protector, she thought, then pondered why she was so curious about the bastard.

She then looks to her husband. Robert Baratheon, the First of His Name, the King, observed the bastard attentively. Her gaze never meets with his, but he's still eyeing her and everything she does. Cersei's eyes turn to Ned Stark, who was talking with his wife, occasionally following his line of sight just to see exactly what Robert was staring at. When he saw that it was his brother's daughter, his facial expression soured immediately. He was going to say something until Catelyn continued to speak.

Cersei grimaced. _He would ruin everything for the children. Everything, just for lust and piteous desire._ That girl…

She then scans the room to find the eldest Stark boy, Robb. His ultramarine eyes flicker on occasion, from his plate of half-eaten sausages and eggs to the girl, and then to Robert. His mood was just as upset as he looks, she thought, and he tightens his gloved grip on his utensil. But, she knew that Robb understood he would lose his head if he said anything disrespectful to the King.

She then looked to the oldest Stark trueborn daughter, Sansa. Her demeanour and charm best fits the Southron standards; her fiery red hair and blue eyes were not meant for the grey, staid North. She had her hair braided in a customary Southron fashion, as were the dresses she wore. Nothing about her was meant for this kind of country; she belonged in the heat of the South with her betrothed.

And, for a spell, Sansa reminded her of herself when she was much younger as she thought of Rhaegar and the future they both would have had. Rhaegar Targaryen, the handsome man with the amaranthine eyes, the man whom she was destined to marry since she was six. The man whose father refused their betrothal when she was but ten years old.

 _You are my most able servant, Tywin, but a man does not marry his heir to his servant's daughter._

She gritted her teeth as she recalled Aerys's words. Everything would have been so different if the dragon hadn't taken the wolf and mated with the lion instead, but thinking about Lyanna now, she found it humorous. The man that she was meant to be with ran off with the woman he was to marry. Now Cersei was being tormented by her in spirit.

 _Rhaegar..._

Her idealistic fantasies of what could have been flashed through her mind, but she cast them aside for reality.

 _Fairy tales do not exist in this world._

Still frowning at Sansa, she felt a pang of sorrow for the girl and how she swooned over Joffrey. Cersei knew just how troubled Joffrey was, how sadistic he could be; it was hidden below his charming face and sweet talk well, but not well enough. _She will find out. Soon._

Despite her feelings of pity, she could not help but consider the witch's words. The witch's crusty yellow eyes stuck with Cersei as her toothless mouth uttered the words, _queen you shall be…until there comes another, younger and more beautiful, to cast you down and take all you hold dear._ She remembered the words clearly as if they were said just yesterday.

Jaime would scoff at the idea of such things, she knew, but they had to be true. Fortune-tellers were hardly ever erroneous. Prophecy controlled every aspect of her life since the day she met Maggy and the revelations made her more cautious of people. It made her more power-hungry, more protective of her children, more…mad. _No different from Aerys, in that regard._

She had no doubt in her mind that the new, younger and beautiful queen would be Sansa. She gripped her knife tighter, struggling to maintain her composure.

With a shared look with Jaime, Cersei pursed her lips and sat back in her chair, staring at the food before her. She proceeded to eat some, longing for a Southron meal as she swallowed.

She wanted someone to take him away, mainly to the gods, whichever actually exist. But, she didn't want her power seized from her or her family…and she was troubled. Troubled to know that a ghost of a woman could have such a hold on a man, lasting for so many years. _Eighteen years._

 _Eighteen years of a loveless marriage. Eighteen years of cheating and deceit. Eighteen years of convincing a man that three illegitimate children were his._

She took his hand in hers for a brief moment, ignoring the feeling of disgust that wormed itself to the pit of her stomach. As he stared at her in contempt, she smiled at him with mock love.

"We will leave soon," she noted softly.

"Aye, we will," he said curtly, stiffly. She pulled her hand away, appreciating that she no longer had to caress his hand, and resumed eating.

 _Disgusting._


	7. Chapter 7

"It is time we all part."

The King embraced Ned and Catelyn, rustled Rickon and Bran's hair, nodding to Arya and shaking Robb's hand. Then he paused before Lynara, his gaze piercing her. She seemed a little unnerved but tried her hardest not to show it. He looked dazed as he reached out for her, nearly grazing her pale cheek with his calloused hand. She backed away from him at the last moment, her smile short and brief. "My King," she said, giving him a courteous bow.

Both Jaime and Cersei watched her closely. Cersei's pride was damaged, it showed, but she took it all in stride. She stared at the King's back in complete distaste. Jaime shared a look with the Queen and soon whispered in her ear; they exchanged a few words before she glared at her husband and entered her carriage.

Jaime grasped his golden Kingsguard helmet as tight as possible, hopping on his readied horse and gripping the reins, undoubtedly ready to leave.

Robb stood tall even though he was livid. He wondered if his father was just as angry and as outraged as he himself felt. He wondered if Ned's oft-sombre face was marred with upset.

"Robert," Ned finally said, Robb hearing the blatant restraint in his voice. The King turned to him, his blue eyes and furrowed brows revealing his fierceness.

"Should you ever change your mind, Ned, send a raven for me," he said, throwing his father into a fierce embrace. "No other man would be a better Hand. I hope you change your mind soon."

"Safe travels, my King," Ned muttered, returning the hug albeit very stiffly. They shared a long stare, then the King got on his horse and started his leave. Though...not before he cast a final glance at Lynara. Robb noted that though his eyes were harsh, they were full of longing.

 _Obsessed with a ghost of a woman._

Sansa rode in the carriage with Joffrey, Tommen and Myrcella. She kissed everyone's cheeks and hugged them before departing, even Lynara's. She waved happily as she neared the carriage, tears running down her face.

Then they were leaving the castle, and Robb felt troubled. There was something wrong about a wolf surrounded by a pride of lions.

* * *

For the first time, she sat with the Starks and not at the smaller table with the commoners.

Everything was back to normal but didn't feel any less strange when she was beginning to get used to the King and his entourage's presence. Used to the loudness, the large feasts, the music. Everything was grandiose and though she was not fond of the Lannisters, sparring with Ser Jaime was fun. She found him to be a challenge and she could most certainly appreciate that.

Robb tried his hardest not to glance at her every five seconds, she knew. Her hand grazed his when they both reached for the same fallen utensil and her body tingled with the touch. The Lady Stark did not watch her as closely as she initially expected, and she was grateful for that.

She had to admit that it felt strangely empty without Sansa's presence. She was usually the one to sing songs and laugh about love. She already missed Arya teasing her and throwing food at her when she grew annoyed at Sansa talking about knights and princesses.

"Will Sansa be okay?" Rickon asked.

"Of course she will, Rickon," Lady Catelyn reassured him. "The role of a husband is to take care of his wife. She is in safe hands."

"But they're Lannisters," he retorted. "They are not good people."

"Even Lannisters know not to cross such boundaries," Robb interjected, looking straight at his little brother. "We will not take kindly to mistreatment of our own."

"Even still," Lynara said softly, "not all Lannisters are bad people. Entire families are not black and white; there is some grey in-between with everyone. Each person is an individual and should be treated as such."

Lynara looked to Ned, who gave a nod. She leant forward in her chair to speak directly to Rickon as she spoke. "Let's talk of this no further. She will be safe. That I can promise you."

She resisted the urge look over because she instinctively knew that his eyes were rested on her. She wondered if the Lord and Lady saw what she felt.

* * *

He knew that she was deliberately avoiding him at the table, but he couldn't stop staring. Every time he saw her, his mind went back to the previous night, when they were so close to kissing but he pulled away just before it could happen.

 _Gods, so close._

He jolted out of his thoughts and met with familiar purple eyes.

"Hey, what are you doing?" She asked in curiosity.

"Just thinking, really."

"Oh yeah? About what, if I may ask?"

"It's not important," he replied, shutting his eyelids and waving his hand. "It's nothing worth noting."

"Ah," she nodded. "Well," she fixed her breeches, brushing off Ghost's snow-white hairs from her legs, "would you like to walk with me? I'm just going to take a walk around the castle, nothing more."

He thought about it. It could be a way to just have a nice discussion, perhaps talk about what happened last night, or simply speak of anything. "Sure," he agreed.

.

Their walk was slow and they haven't said much to each other, but it made him appreciate the effort put in to build such a masterpiece. _Truly meant for kings, though there haven't been any here since Aegon's Conquest._

"You didn't look at me when we had our sup," he finally told her. "Why?"

"We...we almost... _kissed_ , Robb..." Her gaze rose to meet his, and she could barely hold it.

"Were..." He tried to convince himself it didn't hurt to ask, "were you troubled by it?"

"No!" She replied hastily, and he visibly relaxed. "Gods, no. But we are not siblings, yet we were still raised as if we were. Does this not bother you?"

"We were raised as if we were siblings because Father wanted to protect you. But you are my cousin, Lyn." Robb placed his hands on her shoulders. "No, it does not bother me, but I do understand if it does you."

"I am not one to deny things that are right in front of me, Robb," she stopped him in his tracks, hands at her hips. "I felt so much in that short moment…but I wonder what would Lord Stark say? How would he take it knowing that the girl he's raised as his daughter is in love with his son?"

Robb gave her a solemn nod.

"I remember when we were but seven years old. We hid in the godswood and played for well over an hour, and when we came back you overheard a few of the commoners speaking ill of you," he stared at her, and there were many emotions swirling in her eyes, many of which he could not name. "I chased you. I chased you through the halls until I found you collapsed on your bed. I let you cry on my chest when I promised to wed you so those people would no longer belittle you."

 _The memory is coming back to her_ ; he could tell by her widened eyes. It caused a ghost of a smile form upon his lips. "That was how I knew how much I loved you," he continued. "I would do anything for you."

 _But my feelings always went beyond that._

"I cannot deny that…that there is _something_ ," she whispered slowly, desperately. "…something between us and how close we have always been has caused it."

"I am quickly becoming a man grown. I'm going to have to find a lady to wed…a lady who will produce heirs to continue the Stark name." He took his hands in hers and she looked in the other direction, not knowing what else to say. "Some day soon Father will invite all the ladies of Westeros to dine with our family, and he will force me to choose between them so I can have a proper wife when it is time for me to become the Lord of Winterfell and the Warden of the North."

"I don't want you to wed anyone." He knew full well that she sounded like a pouty child, but she almost made him break out into a large grin. But the weight of the conversation was enough to refrain him from actually doing so.

"Do you honestly believe that I have aspirations to wed someone that I barely know? No, Lyn, I don't." _I want to marry for love and not for duty. I want to be different; I want to be…_

"Robb," she began, but any words she wanted to say never slipped past her lips.

"My father doesn't want to give you away to any random lord," Robb stated matter-of-factly. "You will not be safe if it is found out that you are who you are, you must know that. He wants you here to ensure your protection, and what better way for you to be safe than to be with me?"

She said his name again, her hands dropping from his. He curled a finger under her chin, pulling it upward so their eyes could meet once more. His gaze casts down to her perfectly shaped lips, and he thought of how badly he wanted to kiss them...

His eyesight reached her own once more, his mind expelling those thoughts so he could continue.

"The one I care to wed is before me right now, and you'd be the best person to be by my side when those titles are bestowed upon me." He saw the hesitation in her purple hues. "I want you to be my lady, Lynara. Who can I trust more than you? Who would be a better companion for me than you?" He paused again, the flashes of his words from years ago replaying in his mind. "Tell me...tell me that this feels as right for you as it does for me."

She met his eyes again, and he felt taken aback about the raw emotion in her steady gaze. "I love you…"

 _She's going to say something else._ "You know, Father once told me that nothing someone says after the word 'but' really counts."

"There is no 'but,'" she stated, her gaze shifting, searching for something in his eyes. "I love you, Robb Stark."

The white puffs of smoke from their breaths merged together again as he snaked an arm behind her waist and pulled her closer, bending down to nearly meet her lips with his own. She sighed in expectation, no doubt wanting this as much as he had.

 _Close the gap…close the gap…_

"I love you," he whispered, and Lynara's head tilted to the left, zeroing on his, her aquiline nose brushing against the side of his own. Her full, smooth lips puckered for her, her breath quickened in anticipation. "Robb," she pleases, grasping his doublet to pull him closer, and he knew that she loved the way his hands ran over her body so desperation. She gasped, moaning into his mouth, and he growled, kissing her harder. He could taste the sourness of the ale she drank earlier on her breath but all it did was excite him more.

Gods, everything was beautiful. It was perfect, it was new, and everything burst into life as she kissed him some more, releasing her grip on his leather cloth to kiss him with a ferocity Robb never knew was within her.

Her hands made their way around her neck and each movement of her fingertips sent a current of pleasure down Robb's spine. He snaked his hands down to her waist, gripping her hips in urgency as she moaned even more.

He didn't want it to end so quickly, but Lynara pulled away, a heavy blush on her cheeks as they struggled to breathe. "It's not me you need to convince," she started, her stare so intense, "it's your father."

"Father will understand. He has to, Lyn, he has to."


	8. Chapter 8

"I would like to speak with the two of you, Robb, Lynara. Follow me."

Catelyn followed her husband's lead, but Ned paused, standing in front of her. "What?" She asked.

"I would like to speak with them alone, Cat."

"Ned," she began, "Robb is our son. I deserve to know what is going on with him."

"You may not like what is said," he told her.

"He is our son," Catelyn asserted once more.

Ned opened his mouth to protest but the determined look on Catelyn's face made him sigh. He closed his eyes and turned around, brushing past the children to lead them.

At last, they stopped in Maester Luwin's library. This was one of the few times Catelyn saw the quarters without the Maester, and they all sat down in spare chairs around his desk, Ned taking a seat before them; Catelyn moved toward Ned to watch the children. She observed Lynara carefully as she sat quietly next to Robb; she bit her chapped lip and fidgeted with her fingers, twirling them around each other while Robb sat with full composure. Whatever Ned was to discuss, it seemed Robb already knew; she heard him whisper _keep calm_ in Lynara's ear.

"I've been told you two were kissing near the godswood," he started, "...I demand an explanation. Why was I told this? What is the meaning of this?"

The silence hung in the air as Catelyn attempted to register the weight and meaning of Ned's words.

 _That's wrong,_ she thought. _They were raised together, as brother and sister. They cannot possess feelings toward one another._ But it seemed they _had_. Robb pressed his lips into a hard line, his hand sneaking underneath to grab hold of Lynara's and squeezing it tightly. Lynara couldn't meet the gaze of Ned or Catelyn, and it made Catelyn feel weary.

"How long has this been going on?"

"We've only kissed yesterday." Catelyn shifted her gaze back to the purple-eyed girl. She was staring at the table, staring blankly at the half-opened, previously read letters. "But I've loved her long before this. Theon told you, do you remember?"

"Theon told you? Theon told you _what_ , Ned?" _Why are you hiding things from me?_

Ned, unfortunately, ignored her, focusing only on the younger pair. His stolid eyes were now full of disbelief. "That was child's talk, Robb."

"Look at where we are now. It is no longer child's talk."

Silence filled the room, and Ned's cinereal eyes fell on Lynara.

"Lyn," Ned said her name calmly, gaining Lynara's attention. She stared at him with evident desperation and worry, releasing her hand from Robb's. "Do you love him? Is this truly what you want?"

The worry disappeared and there was a sense of peace on her face when she replied, "Yes, Uncle." Catelyn's heart fell into the pit of her stomach. _No. Oh, Seven, no..._

"You must realise what you are giving up. You will be bound to him for the rest of your life. You'll be expected to lay down with him and give him heirs..."

"Those are sacrifices that I am willing to make, my Lord." She sounded surer of herself than she truly appeared.

Ned paused, furrowing his brows, rising only to kneel in front of her. "You do not have to do this. I can assure you that any lord who asks for your hand will be denied. That I can promise you."

Lynara's smile crossed her features. "I love Robb, my Lord." Robb returned her gaze with a gentle smile, threading his fingers between the spaces of her own.

"I know you do not want to marry her off. I know you want to keep her here, with us." Their son's stare was unwavering as it switched from Lynara to his father. "She deserves to be here as much as you or I or Mother. This is her home and you know…" He glanced at Catelyn, then paused. "You know."

There were a million questions running through Catelyn's mind but none slipped from her tongue. She stayed quiet, trusting her lord husband's judgement.

He stared at them for a long time, no doubt taking into account the weight of everything said. Lynara's face only seemed to have encouraged him, and soon his nod was slow, only quickening as he felt better of his decision. "Your marriage will happen within a fortnight," he declared, rising from his position.

"Oh, no, Ned," Catelyn gasped, stare shifting from the children to Ned, mouth slightly ajar. She felt so many things at once - disgust, horror, astonishment, distress. Worry for their family's future, even. "You cannot be considering this, truly. They've treated each other like siblings. You must think of the consequences and what is good for our House. What will the other Northerners think?"

His eyes landed on her with such tiredness. _This is a hard decision for him,_ she thought. _As it should be._ "A fortnight," he repeated, leaving the library without another word.

She had hoped that she would be able to convince him somehow, but there was no way for it to work now.

After he left, she stared intently at Robb. She held his hand, grabbing his attention while she tried to talk some sense into him. Her eyes passed over Lynara and back to her son. In an effort to keep her anger from being apparent, she requested Lynara's leave, which she agreed to with slight reluctance after a quick peer at Robb. The thought of Lynara being Robb's betrothed unnerved Catelyn for a number of reasons.

"Your father didn't love me when we married. He hardly knew me or I him. Love didn't just happen to us. We built it slowly over the years, stone by stone, for you, for your brothers and sisters, for all of us." She watched his hands fold and shift as he shifted, his eyes narrowing. Was it suspicion he felt? That, she did not know. "It's not as exciting as secret passion in the woods, but it is stronger. It lasts longer."

"And is that what is in store for me if I ended up with someone other than Lyn?" Robb pressed. "What you and Father have?"

"Why not?" Her eyebrows rose. "Because others may not be as beautiful? Because they may not look as exotic or have purple eyes?"

"It's not her looks that I am after…but I know you are arguing just to argue, simply because you're upset that you couldn't have arranged a marriage for me."

"You would have agreed to one if you hadn't developed those feelings for the girl raised to think she was your _sister_!" She argued, sighing. _His mind may not change, but I still have hope._ "I need you to think of this House - the future of this House. What would fellow Northerners say? What about the members of houses from other kingdoms?"

"Why do you place appearance above me? Do you not care about my happiness, my desires?" His face scrunched in disgust. "I love her, Mother!"

"This is not love, Robb, it's _lust_ ," she stressed. "We can change this before it's too late. Let me talk to your father - we'll find a proper lady for you to wed instead of-"

"I'm sorry that you had to find out this way, that I love Lyn," His voice was notably softer as he rose from his seat. His grip tightened as he held her hands. "However, she and I made our decisions and Father has made his. You must respect that."

"Robb," she pleaded, "just allow me to-"

" _No._ We don't get to choose who we love, Mother," he stated finally before he released his hold and departed. She closed her eyes with the close of the door and she reopened them, hearing the deafening screams of silence in her ears.

Her hands dropped to her lap. _Ned._ She had to find Ned. There had to be a way to turn this decision around.

* * *

Catelyn stood in front of the table before Ned, her arms folded and her face full of determination. With a calm expression, Ned just looked at her, leaning back in his chair. She felt her blood coursing through her veins, pumping hot and angry as she thought of Robb and Lynara. _No. That cannot happen._

"What is it?"

"We mustn't allow them to marry."

"We must." His response was simple but it was enough to upset her terribly.

"Ned!" She gritted her teeth, and he stared at her blankly. "What is there to gain from this?"

"I made a promise to Ashara. I told her that I would keep her child, my niece, safe, and I intend to do so." His voice was clipped. "The best way to hold my promise is through this - Lyn has been through enough. Allow her to have this moment of happiness."

"This 'moment of happiness' will be for the rest of their lives. Our grandchildren will be raised by two people who thought they were siblings, for the Seven's sake!" Catelyn shrieked. "The heirs to our House will be from a bastard mother!"

"My mother and father were also raised in the same home," he argued, " _this_ home, raised together since they were but a few years old. With that, who am I to judge?" Ned paused, his palms gently meeting the face of the oak table. "They are not like us. They have always had a close bond from the start..."

"Did you expect their _close bond_ to end up like this?" She retorted. "In a marriage? Did you expect them to want to bind their hearts and souls and make the Old Gods and the New bear witness to their eternal vows?"

"Their relationship has always been closer than a mere brother and sister, Cat, I know you've seen it, too." Ned began massaging his forehead. "The way the two of them interact is more in line with how we are ourselves. There is a difference between them and how they treat Bran or Sansa, Rickon or Arya."

"This is wrong, Ned. You cannot permit this." Catelyn shook her head in astonishment. "Please. We still have time to change this. Allow me to gather all the ladies of Westeros so he can make a proper decision. We should not let Robb marry someone like Lynara."

"Would you rather our son be miserable than be with a person he loves? Would you really take Lyn away from Robb?" He took a long drink of his ale, exhaling deeply. Ned looked everywhere but at her. _An answer I don't want to hear._ "I'm sorry, but I can't."

"Why?" She asked in desperation, swallowing hard.

"I have to."


	9. Chapter 9

_The only people in the room save for himself were the maids ordered to aid Lyanna. Howland Reed stayed outside the door, granting him the ability to speak with his little sister alone._

 _Ned burst through the door without warning, scaring the maids in the process. When his eyes locked on Lyanna he took a few strides forward, staring at her with eyes full of sadness, resting the bloody Dawn at the foot of her small bed. He took a seat by her side and begged the Old Gods for at least a few more minutes._

 _" **Lyanna** ," he whispered. The sound of her slow, laboured breath washed over his ears and her grey eyes were barely opening. There's not much time left, he knows..._

 _"Ned? Is that you?" Her frail hand lifted with an obvious quiver. Without thinking he grasped it, his calloused thumb massaging her soft palm with a gentle touch. " **Is that really you? ...you're not a dream**?"_

 _" **No,** " he chuckled sadly. " **I'm not a dream**." He let go of his hold and allowed her to graze his features with her digits, never minding the blood that coated them. " **I'm here, with you. Right here, little sister**."_

 _A smile brightened her radiant face. "I've missed you, big brother." It was at that moment that his heart broke. He felt the dull sting of tears well up at the corners of his eyes. " **I've missed you so, Ned...** "_

 _" **I've missed you, too, Lya**." He looked down, staring at the dismal sight. Blood. There was blood all over her. All over the sheets, the bed, her clothes, the sopping wet rags on the tiny table, her hands, her forehead, even, and now his face had crimson on the cheeks and his thumb was coated with her life force, the wetness soon drying and rolling off his digit when he rubbed the substance with his pointer finger. The rank stench of it permeated the room, filling his nostrils with the scent of death._

 _He looked back to her pale face, the tears freely streaking the sides of her cheeks, wetting the already-dried marks._

 _" **I want to be brave, Ned. I want to...** " He placed his finger on her lips, shushing her for just a moment._

 _" **You are,** " he replied, trying his hardest to smile for her. " **You're the bravest person I know. You've always been...** " Just please, please don't leave me. Not like this, please, gods, not like this._

 _" **I'm not.** " She pressed. " **I'm not brave. I don't want to die...** "_

 _Please, gods, please be merciful. Please..._

 _" **You're not going to die** ," he asserted, tears already forming in his eyes and threatening to fall, feeling guilty for blurting it even though he knew the truth. He faced one of the maids in desperation, his voice matching the panic he felt inside. " **Get her some water!** "_

 _" **No, no water...** " She objected, but his second question drowned out her small voice._

 _" **Is there a maester?** "_

 _" **Listen to me, Ned** ," she cried, placing her cool hand on his face. She whispered in his ear as she began. " **Her name is Visenya. If Robert finds out, he'll kill her...you know he will** ," she sobbed quietly. " **You have to protect her, Ned. Please...please...promise me, Ned. Promise me...** "_

 _Lyanna knew that Ned would do anything for her, even if it meant smudging his honour by raising her child as his bastard. Even if it meant disgracing himself and tarnishing his reputation of being honourable. Even if it meant his own wife hating him. Even if it meant losing his life to protect hers. He would risk his life for her, and he had – he almost lost it, too. If it wasn't for his only surviving friend amongst the group, Howland, Ser Arthur Dayne would have been killed him for sure._

 _ **Promise me, Ned**. His sister murmured like a haunting song, and he repeated over and over that he promised until his mouth felt incredibly parched. The fear had left her eyes then, and she smiled at him for the very last time. He continued promising, softer and softer then, his fingers threaded in the spaces of her own until her hand slowly slipped away from his. He desperately found her bloodied hand again, holding the back of her hand up to his cheek, refusing to believe that she left. No, gods, no. Not like this._

 _" **Lya,** " he cried, face scrunched up while his lip trembled. His head bowed, salty tears rolling from his cheeks down to her bloodstained hand, lightening the deep red hue. " **Lya...Lya, no...no, Lya, please...** "_

 _He didn't know how long it was that he just sat there, rocking back and forth with her hand in his. He didn't know when he pressed his forehead against hers. He didn't know when his head started pounding or when he started to feel so tired. His sister, his beloved sister, left him, and she left him in charge of a small, innocent Targaryen babe. The world was so cruel, he thought, and the gods were cruel. He wished that he could turn back time and just live life as the happy, carefree child he was, with the happy, sweet family he once had. Why..._

 _One of the maids, who he found out later went by the name Wylla, had passed him the little girl, all bright-eyed and sweet of face, gentle and hands shifting uncontrollably about her sides. She didn't cry, but she did sleep peacefully in his arms. The little girl, with empyreal purple eyes and hair as dark as his own..._

 _ **Promise me, Ned.**_

 _He stared back at Lyanna. Her familiar grey eyes were closed, the strain of birthing the little babe and the pains of the fever that took her vanished from her face. Her hand released the winter roses Rhaegar gave her what felt like so long ago; the petals black and brittle._

 _" **You have to call her something else.** " The male voice was Howland's, but Ned felt as if he heard him through a tunnel, barely registering him. He turned slowly to the crannogman, tears still pouring from his eyes while he stared down at the little girl before him. " **She will not live long if she has a Targaryen name.** "_

 _You have to protect her, Ned. Please..._

 _" **Lynara.** " He muttered through his heavy sniffles. It was the first name in his mind. He found it strange that he did not immediately give this girl his mother's name. Instead, he chose the name of a distant relative, Lord Cregan's wife. " **Her name is...Lynara.** " Ned cradled Lyanna's daughter closely, his harsh cries tearing through his chest once more._

 _I'm doing the best I can, I swear. I swear I'm trying my hardest, Lya..._

 _The pain of the memory weighed heavily, especially as he knocked on her door and saw the young girl who looked so much like his little sister that it broke his heart._

* * *

Daresay she was excited? She nearly felt her heart beating out of her chest and it made her come to terms with the reality: Soon she was to be wed. Not just to a random lord, but to Robb. Robb, the little lordling, she always called him jokingly. _The heir to Winterfell._ She sighed, falling back onto her bed. _This feels so surreal._ It felt like the first time in her life that she had something that she truly wanted.

Her thoughts left when she heard a stern knock on her door.

"Yes?" She called. "Who is it?"

"Lyn. It's me." It was her uncle. Hurriedly, she rose to open the door. He already had his foot in the door when he asked, "may I come in?" She stepped aside, granting him entrance.

"I was told by a maid that it was bad luck to see a man of any sort on your wedding day, you know," Lynara joked, but Ned just sat down next to her with a large smile on his face.

"I assure you, my presence will not curse you," he held her hand, his grin dimming. He wrapped his arm around her thin shoulders. "How do you feel?"

Her head bobbed from side to side before she responded. "Nervous, excited, as if I don't deserve this," she admitted, "but overall I am happy."

"As you should be." Ned gave a simple nod. "I just wanted to check on you."

"I see."

His eyes trailed, peering everywhere until they landed on her table, the half-opened, thick book on the topic of the stars the object of his sight. He stood up to finger through the books blankly, and Lynara felt a tinge of weariness in her chest.

"Tell me true, Uncle," she looked at him with a face of sadness and slight reservation, contemplating whether or not she should truly ask. "how do you truly feel of this? Do you really approve?"

He faced her, placing the book down with a thud, the pages briefly moving with the shift of air. For a small moment, Ned's eyes were sombre. He sat down next to her once more and she briefly felt her pulse in her hand as he squeezed. "I do, and I don't," he said finally, much to Lynara's dismay; her gaze fell to the floor, to his feet. "I will tell you that it is reminiscent of your grandparents, my parents. They were raised here together, you know, and their marriage was largely political. At least to everyone else it seemed that way. But they both had the same intimate bond you share with Robb."

"So it wasn't just duty…" Lynara said slowly. _Ours developed from a promise, mostly._ She stopped. "What was your mother like? You have never spoken of her."

For that, he gave her a thoughtful look. "I don't remember much. I was fostered in the Eyrie at a young age, but after my mother died, my father was…quiet. Even more so than usual, really." He stared straight in front of him, but his gaze soon lowered. "The one thing that stays with me to this day is when I was searching for my father to ask him a question a day after her passing, and I found him in the godswood crying. It was…it was the first and last time I've ever seen him cry."

"I can only imagine the pain he felt." She didn't know what else to say.

"Listen, Lyn. Whether I agree with your marriage or not, my thoughts do not matter, so don't be discouraged. You are to be the Lady of Winterfell, and your husband the Lord. Here you'll raise little sons and daughters...and no matter what path you choose I will always be proud of you."

"Even if I raise my daughters to wield swords and wear armour?"

"Even still." He seemed to have hesitated when he added, "Lya would have loved to see that."

They both felt an incredible amount of sadness at the small statement, and they simply sat there, wordless. She didn't know her, but her story was terribly sad and she knew just how much her uncle loved her.

The quiet made her go back to the times when she was restless as they travelled the Northern lands. While those with them went to sleep, she stayed up with Ned and he'd tell her fantastic stories - like that of Bran the Builder and how Aegon conquered Westeros on the back of his bold, feared dragon, Balerion. On the way back home, he told her tales that they both thought were silly, like those of the Others and the Night's King.

" _You've been around Old Nan for too long, Father,_ " she remarked, and she never forgot the odd expression that briefly crossed his features. But as soon as it appeared, he'd chuckle a little and rustle her hair.

" _Go to sleep, Lyn,"_ he said. " _We will hunt tomorrow. I will give you the bow and arrow to practise._ "

For the life of her, she never understood why he had that look...

A question nagged her. "If I may ask, my Lord, why didn't you legitimise me?"

Grey eyes boring into their purple counterparts, Ned paused and sighed before answering. He leant forward, his elbows on his knees and his hands folded.

"Legitimisation is not a casual action, Lyn. All it would do is cause even more problems between us all. I don't know how Cat would have treated you and quite frankly, I don't want to know." He stopped again. "This marriage is good, which is partly why I approve of it - not just for the realm, but it's easier for me to conceal your true identity without asking for Robert's intervention. He's quite taken with you...which is what I feared. I don't want more attention on you, not from him...but with this, you can be made a Stark and no one will bother you."

"Protection." She nodded. "I understand."

"You know that if you become a Stark through marriage you will be better off." He shifted so that she felt the familiar comfort of his arm on her shoulder. "I want to keep you here so you won't be in danger. I love you, Lyn."

"I love you, too, my Lord," she whispered. He rose and turned his back to exit but Lynara stopped him by tugging on the hem of his jerkin. "I have always appreciated everything you've done for me."

He turned to embrace her, placing his hand on the small of her back to pull her closer. She heard the loudness of his heart, the slow, steady beat rhythmically thrumming against his chest.

There was another knock on her door, loud and frantic. Their eyes went to the noise.

"My Lady?" The voice asked. _A maid._ "May I braid your hair for the ceremony?"

"I will see you soon," he remarked, letting go without another word. He opened the door and the maid had her head bowed, acknowledging Ned as he departed. Lynara nodded, watching her uncle leave.

"I must braid your hair, my Lady," the maid told her, and the silence between them allowed her to think once more, her mind going back to her memories. She then realised that it was terribly painful to live a lie for so long.

Promises...the burden he felt...

* * *

The kindly maid that braided her hair left her alone and all it did was make her heart beat faster in anticipation. The night was fast approaching and so was the ceremony. Soon she'll be led down to the godswood, to pledge her heart to Robb, to bind her soul to his with the Gods' permission.

She would have preferred her typical breeches and leathers, but she was fitted in an elaborate purple dress, made to show off every curve she had. _Something that matches the colour of your eyes, my Lady,_ the two maids that helped her in the dress told her. _Something that will make the young lord see your beauty._

 _Oh..._ She put her hand on her chest. _My heart won't stop racing. Why is it so hard to maintain control?_

Along with the anticipation, a considerable amount of doubt and anxiety set in.

 _It's for the best,_ she reassured herself. _Even Lord Stark agrees._

Her door swung open and Lynara rolled her eyes before grinning. "Hello, Arya," she sang, not bothering to turn around. She no longer heard the pitter-patter of footfalls; she instead heard a loud sigh.

"How did you know it was me?"

"No one barges in my room except you." Lynara finally turned around, facing her little sister. Arya gasped in response, eyeing her up and down. "Literally, no one."

"So it's true, then? What Father told us?"

"Yes," she replied. "How do you feel about it, little wolf?"

"I don't know," Arya answered truthfully. "Yeah, well...only a dumbass-"

" _Arya_." She had to stop herself from chuckling. _Don't encourage it._

"-sorry. _Idiot_ -wouldn't have known. Everyone that saw Robb dance with you during the feast should have gotten the hint." Her hand gently landed on her skinny leg. Lynara felt like blushing. Even she didn't notice... "Are you happy?"

Lynara stared at Arya quizzically. "Of course I am."

"That's great, Lyn. That's all that matters." Arya's gaze held her in place before she continued. "Mother won't be attending."

Her heart dropped and a strange feeling radiated from the pit of her stomach. "No?"

Arya shook her head, the brown locks swishing. "She's barely talking to Father."

"I don't want to cause a rift..." _Though I always have._ "But I figured when we were eating this morning. She took her food to her chambers, I think. She wants nothing to do with me, really."

"She'll get over it." Arya rolled her eyes. "She won't have a choice. She can't be mad forever. That's just _stupid_."

"Well," she uttered mournfully, "she has been mad at me all my life, all for something that I couldn't control."

"I know, and that was all for nothing, wasn't it?" To that, Lynara nodded.

"It's not out of the realm of possibility for her to hate me even more now." Arya sighed again and Lynara showed her a sideways smile. "...Arya. Do you trust me?"

" _Trust you?_ " She snorted, raising an eyebrow. "Aside from Father, who do I trust more than you?"

She kissed her forehead and rustled her hair after shooting her a grin. "All of this...it's for a good reason, Arya. Trust me."

"It has to be if Father approved of it."

"I agree," she smiled. "It's best for everyone."

"I should go, though I don't want to," she admitted, rising. She had her hand on the doorknob when she twisted her head to glance at her sister. "Lynara?" Arya ran back to hug her. "You look...beautiful."

The dress was a little tight, but she picked Arya up and swirled her around, kissing her squarely on both of her cheeks. "And you're always beautiful, Arry. I'll see you at the ceremony."

Arya Stark deserved the world, Lynara thought. She deserves a gift worthy of her.

* * *

Robb was the most nervous one of them all, even though he knew he had nothing to worry about. But even still, his hands shook in anticipation and he could feel the sweat drip from every pore. He wiped his hands against his breeches, breathing deep to stay as calm as possible. Even still, he played with his fingers.

Robb's eyes scanned the area. _Mother's not here,_ he thought with a sigh. He wondered if there was a way to get her to understand. _Or perhaps she never will_. He felt hopeful when she started to warm up to Lynara when the "truth" came out, but all of that disappeared when Robb told his father of his ambitions.

Minutes seemed to turn into hours to Robb as he anxiously to see his father to give away Lynara. He peered around to search for his mother but gave up when he saw no trace of her familiar blue eyes or thick auburn hair. He saw Bran standing with little Rickon's hand in his and wild Arya holding a torch, a few of his father's closest friends that lived in Winterfell, and his uncle Benjen with an imperceptible look on his face…but he couldn't see his mother. He stopped seeking her after he realised that _she_ was here.

 _Finally_ , his impatient, all too eager mind thought. Out the corner of his eye, he saw Ghost pad up to the side of the heart tree, sitting beside his brother Grey Wind.

When his eyes landed on her, his breath hitched in his throat. Even in the low light, he could tell that she wore a light purple gown, with white laces in the front. The sleeves stopped midway, sheer fabric flowing freely and gently hanging, white trims at the ends of her sleeves, and the bottom of her dress pooled around her ankles. _She could look amazing in anything, couldn't she?_ He asked himself. It was simple and he appreciated that. He forced himself to focus on the matter at hand.

As he stared at her approaching figure, Robb reminded himself of the promise he told her in what felt like a lifetime ago. _You'll be a proper Stark, just like me_. The words rang in his ears as if it was said in front of him. He was happy and surprised when his father granted permission for such a thing to happen. It was, truly, the happiest he had ever felt.

A small smile touched upon Robb's lips, only widening as the realisation hit him. _This is happening. It's not a dream._

"Who comes? Who comes before the Gods this night?"

It was then that he heard his father's strong voice, booming and confident. "Lynara Snow comes here to be wed. She is a woman grown and she comes to beg the blessings of the Gods. Who comes to claim her?"

Robb stood up straight, quietly clearing his throat and his hands dropping to his sides. "Robb of House Stark, heir to Winterfell and the North, comes to claim her. Who is it that gives her?"

"Eddard of House Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North, gives her," he responded, slipping his arm away from hers so she could walk to her new husband. Me. "Lynara Snow-" All pairs of eyes landed on her expectantly, "-do you take this man?"

She reached out and held his hands in hers, looking up at him with the purest of love and devotion. "I take this man," she gave him a relaxed, pleased nod, her eyes trained on his own. Gods, you're so beautiful, Lyn.

Robb threw his cloak over Lynara, officially making her a Stark. His promise came true.

With their hands still together, he bent down to capture her delicate lips. Oh, how lovely it felt knowing that they didn't have to hide.

He felt the same pang of electricity and warmth that he did the first time, and a grin spread across his rosy lips. Soon after they prayed to the gods, falling to their knees with their hands clasped together. Bliss. Love. Ecstasy. There were many different things he was feeling the moment the two of them locked gazes again, and he couldn't help but notice the way her eyes sparkled, even in the dim light of the many flames.

He was in love - he was _deeply_ in love. _To hell with my mother's dissatisfaction_.

After all was said and done, Ned firmly held his hand on Robb's shoulder. When Robb looked up, he saw the kindest smile on his face.

* * *

They were surrounded by people. Despite the amount of coin and food that went into the last major feasts with King Robert and his company, Ned decided to have one for Robb and Lynara, too. _It is in light of your wedding,_ he said. _All must partake in the celebrations._

"This dress is ridiculous," Lynara huffed, running her hands up her arms. "It's too tight. I feel like I'm suffocating."

"Ridiculous? It's simple!" Robb argued. "And tomorrow you'll be out of that and in your normal attire. You know, breeches and men's clothes. Whatever you want."

"You say that as if it's a bad thing, Robb. You know me..." She gave him a half-smirk. "I can move around in those clothes. I feel more comfortable."

"Good," he smiled. "You should be."

"What do _you_ think of this dress, anyway?" She asked curiously. "You haven't told me yet."

"It matches your eyes, Lyn. Your eyes are beautiful."

Her heart squeezed. Lynara placed her hand on his arm and stroked it. He faced her, planting a kiss squarely on her left cheek, then on her lips.

"Later," he rasped in her ear, and soon he pulled away to speak with those who approached the raised platform for the nobles, who gave the two of them endless words of congratulations and well-wishes from what she could make out of all the commotion.

Lynara sat for what felt like hours, eyes occasionally moving to find Robb or Arya, or her father.

"What of Mother, Father?" Lynara heard Robb ask, but looked everywhere but at them. She felt nothing but guilt for her non-appearance.

"She doesn't want to come down. I tried to talk to her about it, but you know how stubborn your mother could be." She heard her uncle sigh. "I wish it weren't so."

"She doesn't want to see me happy…" She could almost feel the disappointment coming from him. His hand searched for hers, the fingers threading through her empty spaces. "Why is she like this?" His hold tightened in desperation. Lynara placed her free hand under the table, covering his own. She looked down; his knuckles were so pale…she squeezed in an effort to calm him, which seemed to have worked. His eyes met hers and she could see the deep pain that emanated from them. _Oh, Robb…_

"Robb. She does, and she'll come around. Just give her some time." She wondered if he was shaking his head like she imagined him to be. Suddenly, Ned was before Lynara, and she looked up to meet him.

"I hate to leave your feast, but I'm going to speak with your Uncle Ben." Lynara took her hand off her face and sat up in excitement.

"May I-"

"I know you want to see him, but it is getting late. The feast is over." He smiled. "I'll make sure he talks to you tomorrow before he takes his leave." With that, she nodded and he departed. It wasn't soon after that everyone rose and began to shuffle out of the Great Hall. It was late, they've had too much wine and ale, and now it was approaching the time for their bedding.

She saw a figure fluidly sauntering across the space of the door. She almost thought that it was Ghost, only to realise that the figure was too tall and skinny, and both Ghost and Grey Wind rested near her feet, both chewing on chicken legs. Instead, it was Lady Catelyn, staring at her harshly with her eyes full of hatred and disgust, arms folded in on themselves. They held gazes for what felt like a few minutes, but when she blinked, Lady Stark was gone. _Was I imagining things? Perhaps I drank too much ale?_ She tried to shrug it off, but for some reason, she wasn't able to for a long time.

"Did you see something?" Lynara faced him quickly. The upset and the disappointment was written all over his features, but his eyes were full of concern.

"I think so…"

She couldn't shake her image from her mind. Not until Robb extended a hand next to her, cornflower blue eyes gleaming with amusement and love. "Forget about it. Come with me; it's time."

"Time?"

"Yes, Lyn. Time." She took his hand and with his support, she rose from her chair. "Ready?"

"I'm ready."

Both Ghost and Grey Wind watched them as they began to leave, the bones that they were chewing on in pieces on the floor.

* * *

The way to Robb's chambers seemed to take more time than usual. Perhaps it was merely her excitement to finally be with him, or perhaps it was all the beer she had, but in all actuality, she couldn't be too sure. Robb helped her out of the dress, revelling in her beauty, and she helped him take off all his clothes until they stood before each other, as naked as their name-days.

Lynara looked up at him. His expression was intense, so much so that it made her shiver, but she knew he wasn't angry. Robb pulled her to him, closing the distance, covering her mouth in a hungry kiss that she had never had from him before. She could strongly taste the mead on his breath, and a slight hint of mutton and all she could do was moan in his mouth, tongues dancing with each other. There they stood, just kissing, only pulling away to beg for sweet cool air.

"By all the gods, Lyn," the smoke of their breath bound themselves to each other. He bent to her, leaning his forehead against hers, raising her hand up while their fingers were threaded in each other's spaces. "Are you ready?" It was the same question he asked earlier.

"I'm ready," she replied again, and she saw the grin on his face. Finally, he opened his eyes, walking her backwards until she nearly fell onto the bed, staring up at him expectantly. "Robb…"

" _Lynara_." He bared her down on the bed, kissing her until she could see stars, loving her until she gasped his name.

* * *

 _The blonde-haired maid urged her to lay down on the bed, which was covered with rose petals as dark as the night. With the blood and watery substance running down her legs, she had no choice but to obey her. Doubled over in pain, Lynara inched to the bed and laid down, tears running down her face. The strong scent of roses hit her, as well as how cold the petals were against her bare skin._

 _"My Lady, I need you to push!" The maid urged, encouraging her to breathe and then push again. Lynara's screams of pain were loud, and she was begging for Robb to be with her, to at least hold her hand, but he never came. No one came._

 _It felt like hours when the babe was born, but no sound was made like she expected. Arya, Sansa, Bran, and Rickon all cried, she knew, so why hadn't hers? She didn't understand it._

 _A silence filled the room, one that lasted for many minutes. The maid barely moved when Catelyn entered, taking a hard look at the child before her._

 _"My babe, where is my babe? Is he-"_

 _"He was...monstrous," Catelyn cut her off. "Ugly. Deformed. Twisted. Grotesque." She walked slowly to Lynara. "He was scaled like a lizard, blind, with the stub of a tail and small like those of a baby dragon. Whatever the creature was that came from your womb, it certainly was not human."_

 _"What are you talking about, my Lady-"_

 _" **Look** at it." The maid that delivered the babe placed the child in her arms and Catelyn gave her a hard stare, as chilling as she had always remembered it to be. Lynara lowered her eyes to see him and saw exactly what she had described: A boy, wrapped in a small blanket, with purple scales at the ends of his tail and his little wings. His wings covered his twisted back and he lay in silence with his hands balled and up to his face._

 _In a pang of sadness, she held the little bundle close, weeping. "No, no...no..." She sobbed._

 _"Don't cry, bastard. I **told** Robb it would be a mistake to marry you, much less get you with child, but Robb never listened to me. He never has." The tone of her voice only mocked, her eyes squinting and cold. "I have only heard of Targaryens birthing such monstrosities." Catelyn gripped her arm and yanked her closer to her face. "Who are you? **What** are you?"_

 _Lynara could then feel the heat of her angry breath on her face. She whimpered in fear, eyes wide opened and begging her to calm down._

 _" **WHAT ARE YOU?** " Catelyn screamed, her hold tightening with each word._

Lynara was so distraught and full of fear that she sat straight up in bed with a scream on her lips.

* * *

Lynara woke up in a cold sweat and glanced around the room. It was beginning to brighten outside; dawn is fast approaching, but it's too early to go to the armoury. Her hands then went to her thigh and she felt around. No moisture. Suddenly she felt a body shift and an arm snake around her body, pulling her to their chest. She gasped, struggling to maintain a steady breath.

"Shit. Lyn, Lyn, it's me...are you okay?"

 _Robb. It's Robb. My husband..._ Her body was itching to go outside and calm her rattled nerves, but Robb's warmth was enough to relax her for a minute. His free hand brought her head to his broad chest. She struggled to maintain a steady breath, clutching him as tightly as she could.

"No," she nearly cried, "I am not okay."

"It was a nightmare." He said it as if it weren't a question, but Lynara nodded anyway. "Care to talk about it?"

"No," she shook her head. "I don't want to relive it."

"I'm here for you if you need me." His tired voice was the most soothing sound she had ever heard. "I promise."

"Thank you, Robb." She wanted to smile but the nightmare made her tremble terribly, filling her mind with awful images. Silent tears ran down her cheeks and onto his chest and she could barely breathe. Robb pulled away just to hold her face.

"Hey, you'll be fine. It was just a bad dream, I promise." He kissed her on the lips, pulling away while his hands were on either side of her cheeks. "Your fear will pass." Another kiss, this time deeper and more meaningful. He drew her to his body again. "It will. Let's go back to sleep, alright?"

She wanted to tell him that she wouldn't be able to go back to sleep. She didn't want to have that nightmare again. Lynara held Robb closer as he laid down with her, and Robb ran his fingers through her brown hair until he slowly fell asleep.

All Lynara could do was bury her face in Robb's neck and pull the furs up to her face. Rest wouldn't come. Not for a long time.


End file.
